


Data Recovery

by ajejunestar (ohmyjetsabel)



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Amnesia, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyjetsabel/pseuds/ajejunestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt on the mark_eduardo prompt fest: "(Post-movie) Mark gets amnesia and forgets what sex is like. He and Eduardo have sex and it's like his first time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Data Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: http://mark-eduardo.livejournal.com/368440.html?thread=2206264#t2206264

"Should we just...?" Mark pushes his hands out, making the pocket of his hoodie tent and curve.  
  
Eduardo's getting drunk. He's already downed two minibottles of something clear and pungent. He swigs from another and grimaces at the taste, nodding. "Yeah, just—take it all off."  
  
This wasn't quite how Mark expected it to go. He's done a lot of diligent research, and in the videos, well. There's usually kissing or touching or smiling. Not this. Not Mark fumbling off a shoe or Eduardo pulling at his own hair or the proximity between them that doesn't suggest that sex is in their near future.  
  
Mark stands naked eventually, but he folds his clothes, because. Well, because he doesn't quite know what to do with his hands or where to look and this makes it easy. Automated. Fold and tuck the fabric, set it aside. Organize it. Scratch his balls. Shuffle his feet.  
  
He looks down at himself.  
  
Mark isn't hard.  
  
He's nothing like the men in the videos.  
  
"Am I..." he starts to ask, but when he looks to Eduardo, finds him almost completely unclothed. Mark doesn't feel the need to ask anymore, soaks in Eduardo's defined stomach and broad, tanned shoulders with an inward tucking of his feet.  
  
"Are you what?" Eduardo prompts, sliding a leg of his slacks from a foot.  
  
Mark shakes his head and looks away. "No, it's nothing."  
  
"Mark," Eduardo says, and then again louder. When their eyes meet, Eduardo pleads, "Could we not be evasive and weird? You promised."  
  
He did promise Eduardo, weeks before when he asked for this. He said to him, _I promise not to make it weird between us_ , to which Eduardo said, _that’s not a promise you could keep._  
  
Mark swallows and touches himself, cups his flaccid penis in a palm and stares back and forth between their bodies. Eduardo's tanned and firm, Mark's pasty and slender. "I was just wondering," he complies. "Objectively speaking, am I... ugly?"  
  
He realizes how sort of juvenile and insecure that sounds, so he's about to backtrack, roll his eyes and amend his question to include something scientific and probably inappropriate, but Eduardo never gives him a chance.  
  
"You're beautiful."  
  
Mark scoffs and scratches his balls again. Beautiful is not a word he'd use to describe _this_. All this pastiness and softness and gaunt bones and just... "Don't butter me up, okay? I have memory problems, not a common sense deficiency."  
  
Eduardo laughs, this soft and cynical thing, and takes another drink from the bottle. "I masturbate to you," he confesses mid-cringe through his swallow.  
  
Mark gives him a skeptical look.  
  
"Really, it was... it's been that way. For a long time. You were always..." And Eduardo trails off, adjusting the bulge beneath his black briefs.  
  
"I was always what?" Mark's getting hard now, rubs more than cups what he's touching with his palm.  
Eduardo drops his eyes to Mark's crotch, but immediately darts them away. "You were always my type," he finishes.  
  
Mark swallows again, slowly lets his hand fall away even though it twitches to cover himself once more. He ventures, "You want to fuck me."  
  
"I want to fuck you," Eduardo assures.  
  
"You're drinking."  
  
"I'm nervous."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's." Eduardo makes a sound, something fragile and frightened. "It's a big deal to me. I don't want to mess it up."  
  
"You aren't kissing me or looking at me or touching me and I—" Mark sucks in a shaky, anxious breath, feels the impulse to put all his clothes back on and run, though he doesn't understand why. "I want this."  
  
Eduardo's closer then, close enough that Mark can feel the heat of him, the pads of four warm fingertips pressing against his hip. "Hey," Eduardo says, eyes moving back and forth, flick-flick-flickering between Mark's. "I want this, too. I promise."  
  
They start kissing then. It's familiar to Mark in the same way that reading a recount of a forgotten dream might be. He knows it's happened before but can't quite recall the details of it.  
  
Eduardo's tongue is hot and silky, wet and bitter with vodka. He makes sounds into Mark's mouth. Soft, mumbled sounds, "...taste so good, Mark." And he touches his face, threads his fingers into his hair and lets their chests press, their stomachs, their hips fitting together.  
  
One of them is shaking. Mark can't tell who.  
  
He can feel the hard weight of Eduardo against his own erection and it wipes his mind blank. Suddenly, Mark's forgotten everything he learned in those videos. What to do with this penis against him and how to please Eduardo.  
  
He seizes in fear, breaking their wet kiss. "Wardo, I don't know how."  
  
But he shushes him, silences Mark with his mouth and says into it, "I'll do everything, just... relax," and when Mark's close to protesting adds, "I'll teach you, Mark."  
  
He touches Eduardo over the cotton of his briefs, hesitant fingers just tickling the fabric, feeling the warm and twitch of it.  
  
Eduardo fits his hand over Mark's and presses it more firmly. "Feels good," he says and breaks away to stare between their bodies, takes Mark into his hand and gives him a soft, long stroke.  
  
Mark chokes on saliva and tumbles forward into him, gasping. "Oh god."  
  
Eduardo just cradles his head to his shoulder, kisses Mark's hair as he twists and pulls, so soft, so warm, breathing into his ear, "...make you feel so good..."  
  
Mark comes.  
  
He doesn't even realize he's close, just feels the warmth of Eduardo's palm stroking him and ends up shuddering into his body, grunting wetly into the skin of Eduardo's neck.  
  
He strokes Mark through it, petting his hair and kissing his neck, and when Mark feels like he can stand again, Eduardo just drops.  
  
To his knees.  
  
He licks all of the stickiness from Mark's skin, from his own palm, tongue pressing into the creases between his fingers. Mark's erection hasn't abated at all. He thinks it probably won't.  
  
"What does it taste like?" Mark wonders through the breathing and the twitching and the tender, pit deep ache bottoming out his belly.  
  
Eduardo stares up at him through a fan of lashes, still sweeping his tongue around Mark's blunt head, catching what's leaked through the slit. "Salty," he whispers. "A little fleshy."  
  
Mark implores, "I want to do it."  
  
He takes off Eduardo's briefs, slides them down his legs when he stands and gets on his knees, mirroring Eduardo's previous position. "Like this?" Mark licks the head, Eduardo's more purple, thicker than Mark's.  
  
"Just like that." Eduardo sounds like his teeth are gnashing.  
  
Mark fits his lips around it and peers up, meets Eduardo's eyes for approval.  
  
"It's good," Eduardo's chest heaves startlingly. Like he's trying to suck in all the oxygen the room contains. "So good, Mark."  
  
He sucks it like a popsicle. Eduardo puts his hand on Mark's head but doesn't really guide him. Just puts weight there, like maybe he wants it deeper, so Mark does that.  
  
He gags.  
  
"Easy," Eduardo instructs, choking as if a dick was nudging his throat, not Mark's. He makes him pull off not long after that, and at Mark's disappointed expression, explains, "I don't want to come yet."  
  
They lie down on the bed and they're just kissing at first, but then, there isn't any kissing at all because Mark's hands and eyes are busy exploring Eduardo’s body.  
  
"I wish I looked like this," he sighs, running a hand over Eduardo's abdomen. "You're like a model or something." Mark remembers seeing himself for the not-first first time.  
  
He remembers being distinctly disappointed.  
  
Eduardo breathes a laugh, but he pushes Mark into the mattress and mimics him, exploring Mark's body with wide and hungry eyes. "If you looked like me, I wouldn't want you this much."  
  
He tongues the freckle parallel to Mark's bellybutton.  
  
Mark fights the urge to squirm, inexplicably ticklish, but replies, "How much?" and Eduardo takes his hand, fitting it to his erection once again, only now it's wet and slick and Mark asks, "Did you come?" and Eduardo shakes his head.  
  
"Just excited."  
  
Eduardo hovers over him, slides their erections together as they kiss and neck each other, and Mark is curious. "Am I... is this right? I'm doing it right?" and Eduardo pants into his neck, thrust-thrust-thrusting against Mark, and gasps, "Yes, god—you feel so good, you have no idea."  
  
He never gets upset at Mark for needing constant validation, which is good, because Mark lacks basis for comparison and if he's a bad lay, he wants to know. He wants to make Eduardo feel good.  
  
He wants to make him feel amazed. "Is there stuff?" Mark asks, and when Eduardo makes a confused sound into his mouth, Mark elaborates, "Lubrication and condoms."  
  
Eduardo pauses, breathing hard, and says, "Oh yeah," almost like he's forgotten that they planned to do more than dry hump in this penthouse suite.  
  
He stumbles out of the bed and shakes out his jacket, fumbling inside the pockets for a bottle and crinkly foil. "I'm going to put my fingers inside you first," he explains as he climbs back into the bed, meeting Mark's searching lips with a smacking kiss. "To stretch you out, okay?"  
  
Mark nods—he remembers this from the literature—and spreads his legs. "Do you want me like this, or...?"  
  
Eduardo stops him, smiling. "You're perfect."  
  
Mark nods and bites his lip, watches Eduardo squeeze lube into his palm and spread it over his fingers. He nudges himself closer, snapping the bottle closed and tossing it aside. Their eyes meet. Eduardo touches the soft sac of skin between Mark's legs and massages it, gentle, dropping down and in until Mark has to force himself to not flinch away.  
  
It's awkward.  
  
Mark doesn't really get it. The anal thing. It seems like a bad place to put anything, let alone a finger or a penis or, god forbid, a mouth.  
  
He tries really hard to not think of it like that when Eduardo's finger finds his hole, slick and warm, rubbing and tentative.  
  
"Okay?" Eduardo asks.  
  
Mark feels like his face is on fire. He clears his throat. "Yeah, okay."  
  
Eduardo slips his finger in.  
  
Mark clenches.  
  
"It's. It'll be uncomfortable. For just a few minutes."  
  
Mark nods and tries to relax. It feels weird. Intrusive. He's embarrassed and nervous. His knees are trembling. Eduardo's finger is probing, dipping, tight muscle wrapped around thick knuckle, in and out, twirled around.  
  
The second finger is worse, an edge of burn to accompany the discomfort, and Mark shifts, grimacing.  
  
"Do you want to stop?" Eduardo worries, pausing.  
  
But Mark shakes his head. "I want you to fuck me."  
  
"I'll go slow," Eduardo promises.  
  
But he was wrong about it only being uncomfortable for a few minutes. Mark grimaces and cringes through another ten, at least, letting Eduardo kiss him through it, even as he grows flaccid and nervous. That this won't feel good. That Mark is bad at sex. He can't even keep it hard and Eduardo is rutting against him, still leaking and ready, stretching him with three fingers now, deeper and wetter, more force, scissoring.  
  
Mark cries out suddenly.  
  
He hears himself before he seems to feel it, something sharp and electric, a curl of his toes and a tightening of his muscles. "Oh!"  
  
Eduardo says softly, "Your prostate," and does it again.  
  
Mark arches into him, digging nails into back-flesh and ankles into calf-muscle. "Ung."  
  
He focuses on Mark very intently, thrusting his fingers into that spot again and again until Mark's hard against his belly once more, breathing hard and lightheaded and shaking knees and tight balls.  
  
"Ah, fuck me," Mark's begging, and he doesn't know what he's asking for, but he knows this isn't enough and he needs...  
  
He needs.  
  
Eduardo slides the condom onto himself and gets it slippery with unsteady hands, palms sliding against Mark's hips when he jostles him into a suitable position, knees up. "I've wanted this," he tells Mark against his nervous-chattering mouth. "With you, for so long. I know you don't remember, but Mark..."  
  
He never finishes. Mark feels him between his cheeks, the blunt, slick head seeking and prodding until it's against the dip of Mark's hole and Eduardo gently pushes it inside.  
  
They pause, suspended like that for what seems like an eternity, Mark breathing through the pain of it.  
  
He tells Mark, "You're so tight. _God_."  
  
"You're... big," Mark replies lamely.  
  
Eduardo kisses his cheek and touches his knee, even though he's shaking, and he never goes any deeper than that, just the head of him, slotted snugly into Mark.  
  
It takes a moment to realize that Eduardo's waiting for a signal to go on. "It doesn't hurt anymore. You can..." Mark shifts his hips and Eduardo whimpers, gripping his knee tight enough that it hurts more than the gentle thrust into Mark that follows.  
  
He opens up for Eduardo slowly. Painfully slowly. Mark knows this is his not-first first time being pentrated, but he wonders if this is his _actual-first_ first time, too. Much like the fingers, Mark loses his erection and it doesn't feel amazing, the slow, aching way Eduardo eases himself into Mark. The first rocks of his hips aren't satisfying, still burn.  
  
But then, much like the fingers, Eduardo finds what makes Mark spark and thrusts softly against it. Mark's lips part, a gasp escaping, body clenching. Eduardo whines, high and long, and his eyebrows are knitted together, angry yet not, and then their skin is sliding together and Mark is _in this_.  
  
Eduardo keeps saying, "So good. So good." And Mark keeps agreeing, "Yeah. Yeah."  
  
They're having sex. It's sweet and dirty, wet sounds and wetter kisses, wide eyes and slippery skin, nose against nose, thrust against thrust. Mark's leaking into his bellybutton, and Eduardo never asks him anything, but he's nodding along to every press of Eduardo's thighs against his, as if to say, "Yes, this is right."  
  
This is how Mark has sex.  
  
This is how Mark has sex with Eduardo.  
  
Mark asks him to go harder and Eduardo grits his teeth and stares into Mark's eyes and sobs air, "I want to fuck you so hard," and Mark nods breathlessly some more and Eduardo does it.  
  
He slams into Mark and they both cry out. It doesn't hurt, not in a pain way, but there is an ache there, deep inside, in some place Mark can't fathom and he says, "More. More." and Eduardo says, "Yeah. Yeah."  
  
They're fucking. It's desperate and Mark pulls at skin with his knobby fingers as Eduardo presses him into the bed, pushing pushing, swallowing Mark's sounds, fast and needy, pleading sounds, pulling hair, deeper and harder and heavier and something crashes to the ground because Eduardo's hand is flailed out to the side searching for something to grab onto and Mark puts his hand there and they grip fingers between fingers and Eduardo's eyes are flashing and he looks furious and fucking _beautiful_.  
  
Eduardo comes with an animalistic noise, crushing Mark's hand in his, eyes sliding closed, face slackening into relief and maybe bliss. "Mark, Mark, oh god, ah fuck." and Mark is still right there on the edge and canting his hips for that last inch that'll do it and Eduardo must know because he gives one last heavy shove into Mark and their stomachs are trapping his erection, slick against it, squeezing it.  
  
Mark comes with more of a cry than a grunt, slamming his feet into the mattress so he can fuck himself onto Eduardo, hands on the globes of his ass, pushing him inside with a visceral shudder.  
  
Eduardo pets his hair, just like before, says into his ear, "That's it, yeah. Come for me, come for me." and he gives him sloppy, lazy tongue kisses against his neck as Mark's muscles slowly loosen.  
  
After, he's like jelly. Boneless. Out of air. Sweaty. Smelly. Their kisses are slippery and off target, patches of saliva on the corners of mouths, cold when the air hits it.  
  
Later, when they're both on their backs and Eduardo's tying off the condom, Mark asks, "Was it good?"  
  
Eduardo kisses him, eyes soft and frank. "Better than our first first time."


End file.
